Take My Hand
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: Since it was never explained in the movie, this is my take on The Day. The day that Lucius stopped holding Ivy's arm, and the day that she learns about his feelings for her.


AN: Hey there, just a short AN before I start the story. I loved The Village but no one else seemed to share my feelings. So I was inspired to write this short story. My first Village fic and perhaps my last. (unless this is well recieved, in which case I have another fic...) I hope you enjoy!

Take My Hand  
  
Today was to be a fine day. I could feel it in the wind. It brought with it the deep earthy smells of early autumn, the slightest tingling with the breeze, and the sound of dead leaves crunching underfoot. It had rained last night, for I could smell the dampness all around me, and the soft ground gave slightly as I stepped off of my porch. I did so love the smells of autumn and the chill breeze on my cheeks. I breathed in a great sigh and sat myself on my porch, letting my legs dangle over the edge to play in the grass. The school bell would not ring for another twenty minutes at least, but I knew that he would come soon. Lucius always came early.  
  
Strange, as I sat waiting for him, my thoughts lingered on him. Lucius had always been a good friend to me. He would always find time to play with me, even when the other boys thought that a blind girl could not participate. He would help me up if I stumbled or fell. And he walked me to school every day. He would always approach me, offer me his hand, and tell me, "Good morning, Ivy." I would always take his hand, pull myself to my feet, and answer with, "Good morning, Lucius." It had been the same ever since we had both attended school together, and, although I was now 15 years of age, I always thought that it would remain so until we left school.  
  
I was torn from my thoughts as footsteps (crunching the leaves loudly) sounded nearby. I looked toward the sound, I could discern Lucius' color coming closer. My smile faltered for only an instant. His pace was slower than usual, and something told me that he was late. Still he moved at his sluggish, almost unwilling pace. Then he stopped. I cocked my head. He did not feel close. I could hear his breathing (more intense than usual) several feet away. I held out my hand in hopes that he would take it and help me up. His arm did not come. Knitting my brows, I leaned on my cane and pulled myself to my feet. Still he did not come any closer. I approached him, feeling the tip of my cane touch his shoe.  
  
"Good morning, Lucius," I prompted. I could feel his breath quicken. There was a pause, then-  
  
"Good morning, Ivy." I was still in a state of confusion. "Are you feeling quite all right?" I asked. Another pause.  
  
"Fine," he answered at last. I reached out with my hand, but he had already started moving. Puzzled, if not a bit hurt, I followed. I ran my cane through the grass in front of me, hearing Lucius' steps always ahead of me, walking quickly. But he did not slow down, or offer me his arm, as he had always done. It was the smallest of things, but my heart felt suddenly cold and alone. I was alone. It was a feeling that I had never quite felt before, and it was frightening. And suddenly, I was scared. I didn't want to be alone. I reached out in front of me, almost frantically.  
"Lucius." My voice was almost a whimper as it came from my lips. The sound of his feet stopped unexpectedly. Suddenly, he was beside me.  
  
"What?" he asked, his voice thin with worry. I could feel his heart beating loudly, for he stood only inches from me. I faltered. How could I tell him that I feared being separated from him, not having his arm to lean upon? Surely he would think me just another silly girl for saying such a thing. Trying to forget the chill down my spine, I spoke with the clearest voice that I could muster.  
  
"Why must you walk so quickly, Lucius? I can hardly keep up." It was a pitiful excuse, but I was sure that he would scoff at the idea that I _needed_ his arm to hold on to. Still he was silent, and I could feel his eyes glancing over me, as if he was sure that I had not told him everything. The other school children walked around us, their laughter and footsteps in another world. Finally, Lucius turned toward the schoolhouse.  
  
"Sorry," he said softly. That was all. No hand to hold mine. No guidance. Just a whispered apology. I felt hot, frustrated tears trying to form in my eyes, but I fought them back. I did not want him to see me cry. I simply followed him to the schoolhouse, forcing back my feelings.  
All throughout my father's lessons, I found it so incredibly hard to focus my attentions on my studies. My thoughts continued to wander to Lucius and his aloofness toward me. Was it that he was feeling ill? Had I done something to offend him somehow? Why was he suddenly so unwilling to come into contact with me?  
  
When the time for eating our lunches came, my father suggested that we all spend the time outside and enjoy the last of the warm weather. I had not much to eat, and I usually occupied myself with playing with the younger children. I wondered if perhaps Lucius' mood had passed with the morning, and I sought him out, flushing all ill feeling from my body and smiling. From what I could hear, Lucius was entertaining a smaller boy, barely old enough the be attending school. It seemed as if Lucius was perfectly genial now, and I knew that it was time to make my attempt. I was going to challenge him to a footrace. He usually let me win, although he had no knowledge that I knew this. I gripped the handle of my cane and approached him.  
  
"Good afternoon, Lucius," I said clearly with a smile. I could "see" his colour flush a deeper hue, and he craned his entire body to look at me.  
  
"G-good afternoon," he stuttered, as if taken by surprise. My grin grew.  
  
"Would you be interested in a footrace?" I asked. "I promise to give you a sporting chance." There was uncertain silence again. My smile fell almost instantly. He did not speak, simply fidgeted for moments on end. Unable to take the torture for much longer, feeling the pressure of unwanted tears, I turned on heel and intended to march straight back into the schoolhouse. A rock caught me mid-stride, and I stumbled awkwardly, my arms gyrating in front of me like a windmill. Two strong hands caught me before I could plummet to the ground. My heart raced, and for an instant I thought that maybe Lucius had grabbed me. But the voice that came was not his.  
  
"Ivy," came my father's deep voice, accompanied by his colour, "you must watch your step where children play. Too many things are lain about. Are you all right?" I nodded at my father's question, too afraid to speak, lest my emotions come spilling forth. Then he saw my tears. "Ivy," his voice was now much different, "what has brought this sadness to your eyes?" I wanted to shout, "Lucius, Lucius, Lucius!" but I could not find my tongue. I had left it somewhere between thinking of the footrace and tripping on the stone. Then I heard Lucius' voice. It was as if he was afraid of something: his voice was shaking, but he stood tall.  
  
"Mr. Walker, I can take Ivy back to the schoolhouse for some water." There was an abnormal edge in his voice, an stiff resolve. He knew that my father had to remain outside with the children, but he also wanted to know that I would be taken care of. My father's grip loosened, and, as if frightened at first, Lucius' fingers (cold on my hot skin) took a soft hold on my wrist. Then we were walking. A soaring feeling took its place in my chest, and was contented to walk behind him as he led me to the schoolhouse. I knew perfectly well where it was, but with Lucius' fingers (they were trembling) guiding me, I simply allowed myself to be guided. Up the stairs we went, and as soon as the schoolhouse enclosed us, he released my wrist from his quivering fingers.  
  
"G-go sit by the fire," he told me with a shaky voice. "I will get some water." He was gone again. I knocked my cane against the desks until I found myself next to the wood-burning stove. I lowered myself to the floor, taking off my shoe and examining the would on my stubbed toe with my fingers. It had felt much worse than it actually was. I could hear Lucius working the pump outside, and I began to wonder. Why was it that he refused to help me on the way to school, or even when I was falling? And when his fingers _did_ grasp my wrist, he was shaking, as if out of fear, Was he afraid to touch a blind girl? I frowned at the thought.  
  
I was returning my shoe to my foot when Lucius entered again. I knew it was him by his unique color, though I doubted that I would ever tell him about it. I could hear him pause slightly, then he sat across from me on the floor.  
  
"I got you some water," he said in a deadpan voice. I reached out my hand, and my fingertips brushed a wooden cup. I grasped it, my fingers barely touching those of Lucius. He made the tiniest noise and recoiled his hand quickly. I paused before taking a drink. It make have looked like I was contemplating his reaction, but I couldn't be sure of what anything I did looked like from another's point-of-view. As my lips closed on the ri of the cup, and I began to drink, Lucius started to talk.  
  
"I am sorry, Ivy," he said quickly. I stopped drinking and took the cup from my mouth. I knew that it was uncharacteristic of him to speak without being spoken to. But I also knew that I wanted to listen, to know more.  
  
"Sorry for what?" I prompted, feigning ignorance. I could actually feel his eyes upon me, looking _into_ me, something I was unaccustomed to. There was silence. This was the first of our silences that I was uncomfortable with: not angry or hurt, but actually somewhat afraid. With a pause that lasted for hours (or so it seemed), he finally spoke.  
  
"I did not want you to cry." My heart gave a tiny jolt. I did not know that he had seen my tears. My hand moved to my eyes, as if I could still wipe them dry. Before I could say anything, anything at all, the children began to file back into the schoolhouse. I heard Lucius fumble to stand quickly, whereas I pulled myself quietly to my feet. Before he took his seat, I could feel another penetrating glance sent my way. It sent chills down my back.  
  
Once again, my head was not with my work. Once again, my mind was on Lucius. But this time I had answers. I knew now why Lucius had shied from my touch, why his hand trembled. It was not that he was afraid or angry. He was not holding my arm be cause he wanted to hold my arm. I scanned the schoolhouse for his color, and there he sat, his color dull and hazy. It was much less intense than it was during our talk by the fire. Was I thinking correctly? Did I have the right idea?  
  
Did Lucius Hunt love me?  
  
Perhaps love was too great a word. Did Lucius Hunt have feelings for me? This was certain. I had feelings for my father, but they were much different from the way I felt for Lucius. I would have no other boy walk me to school, whether he held my arm or not. It didn't matter, now that I thought about it, if he held my arm at all. All that mattered was that he was with me. I smiled.  
There was only one way to be sure.  
  
I walked down the steps to the schoolhouse, Lucius behind me, ready to walk me home. I didn't offer my arm, for I knew that he would not take it. Instead, I waited until we were away from the other children and my father as I headed toward my porch once more. I then initiated my plan. I found a particularly large clump of grass in my way, and I wedged my foot into it. I stumbled again, my arms once more seeking someone to catch me.  
  
No one came.  
  
I fell to my knees, dropping my cane to my side. Lucius knelt in the grass beside me. His hands did not help me to my feet, but rather handed me my cane.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked, worry dripping from his voice again. I smiled.  
  
"Yes," I answered, feeling my own questions answered. "I am quite all right." I pulled myself to my feet, weaning myself off of the contact that I was so used to, and followed Lucius to my porch.


End file.
